


for that which we have lost

by setosdarkness



Series: OTP Collection - IwaOi [16]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Alternate universe - Mafia, F/F, M/M, Murder Mystery, Post canon, Schrodinger's Iwa-chan, Unreliable Narrator, Yandere, e v e r y o n e is here, everything is a lie, the culprit is one of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setosdarkness/pseuds/setosdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do in the name of love? Would you sacrifice the world? Your friends? Your own self? Your own humanity?</p><p>[post-canon, Haikyuu!! cast in a zombie-apocalypse]</p><p>-</p><p>Two years ago: due to its uncontrollable symptoms and unsurpassed communicability, development was stopped on the Retro-Transformation Syndrome Virus that was supposed to help accelerate healing of severe injuries.</p><p>Two days ago: the virus samples have been stolen and presumably unleashed to the general population, causing a massive horde of infected humans go berserk.</p><p>Two hours ago: a certain person in a certain place at a certain time continues to not regret their decision to infect humanity.</p><p>Two minutes ago: the zombies continue to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the one beginning of Iwaizumi Hajime

*** chapter one: the one beginning of Iwaizumi Hajime ***  
  


**\- two years before two years ago -**

  
There’s a sting on his forearm, almost as though some ant had bit him too deeply. He rubs at the skin absentmindedly, hearing Oikawa’s voice chiding him about not caring enough for its dry, chappy texture. He shakes his head, but the motion doesn’t rid of him of the ghost of his best friend’s annoyingly cheerful voice ringing inside his mind.  
  
It’s not normal, he knows, the way he just knows things about Oikawa.  
  
It’s not healthy.  
  
It’s what they are though and he doesn’t want to trade it for anything.  
  
He pulls up his hood as he jogs farther away from the fancy hotel Oikawa’s sponsors have provided for him, despite it being off-season. Even if the hotel promises full privacy, earning its regulars among celebrities with way too much to hide from public eye, he doesn’t want to risk anything his presence will bring to light.  
  
He doesn’t talk about it with Oikawa, but he shouldn’t be here.  
  
It’s not normal.  
  
It’s not healthy.  
  
It is what it is though and he doesn’t want to trade it for anything.

  
**\- two years ago -**

  
  
RTS - or more commonly, Retro-Transformation Syndrome - practically smears its name across all news agencies, tabloids, newspapers, net articles.  
  
The kids he passes by on the public park are wildly yelling out speculations and wishes as to how they’d like to try it and maybe develop weapons on their hands and then become superheroes.  
  
The highschoolers slacking off their cram school at the convenience store where he buys more bandages from are all aflutter about the thought that someone in their class might buy their way into getting infected to enhance their brain.  
  
The newscasters portrayed on the TV displays of the electronics store he stands in front of, waiting for the pedestrian light to switch to green, are interviewing a bunch of medical experts, gathering and broadcasting opinions of a hundred different people who doesn’t really know what the virus and its resulting syndrome really is for.  
  
He thinks that it’s popularity is really just because the government of this country and its allies are too offended with the thought that there could be a research organization smart and well-funded enough to make something like a virus supposedly capable of accelerating pinpointed cellular growth, making itself useful in times when the body needs to repair itself quickly.  
  
Politics and common sense quickly brings their respective hammers down on the project though.  
  
He hums the catchy tune he heard as he was jostled along the train station earlier, as he toes off his shoes in the doorway of Oikawa’s penthouse suite, changing to his house slippers on auto-pilot. The plastic bag containing the fruits of his labor, otherwise known as his grocery run to the nearest store more than thirty minutes away.  
  
Lately, he’s been understanding Oikawa’s mood swings less and less, but he doesn’t dislike the way that they’re living away from most of humanity. It’s almost cozy, almost like the honeymoon that Oikawa has been harping about ever since they were in middle school.  
  
“I’m home,” he calls out gruffly to the other occupant of the suite.  
  
He knocks his fist lightly over Oikawa’s head, but the other man merely swats its away. He knows Oikawa’s pouting, even with his face downturned, 100% of his focus on the article he’s reading on his tablet. Oikawa’s legs are stretched out in front of him.  
  
He thinks about it and decides that there’s nothing to lose.  
  
He places his hand over Oikawa’s knee, the one he always favored because of the strain he had placed on it due to his monstrous serves.  
  
Oikawa flinches, his whole body tensing with the motion. He rubs his hand over the knee, repeating the motion over and over and over again until Oikawa manages to have his reaction under control.  
  
“Welcome home, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa eventually says, but he doesn’t quite meet his eyes.  
  
That’s fine.  
  
Things have changed and things are changing and things will never go back to how they used to be.  
  
But it’s still who they are and he doesn’t want to trade it for anything.  
  


**\- two days ago -**

  
  
“Why are you here, Iwa-chan?”  
  
He ignores Oikawa’s questions and simply tugs the other by the arm, dragging him to the coaches’ office. He’s only been to this building a few times since it’s been renovated, but he’s been to a couple of seminars about building security and he knows that most buildings follow some sort of pattern and logic when it comes to placing and arranging the rooms.  
  
He guesses his way into reaching the office, finding it empty of people but filled with paperwork and communication devices.  
  
“Iwa-chan??? Why are you ignoring me??? Come on, I asked you why are you here!”  
  
Oikawa tends to panic if something happens that’s way out of his predictions. To be fair, there’s no doubt that what’s happening today is something that’s never crossed the minds of a good chunk of the populace.  
  
“Keep quiet, dumbass,” he hisses when Oikawa’s shrill voice gets too much. “Do you want the zombies to find us here?”  
  
There’s a moment of blessed silence when Oikawa just gapes at him, surprised at his words. But then the surprise only lasts for so long before Oikawa’s mind catches up with him. He’s always been too smart for his own good.  
  
“Zombies?! Oh god, I knew it! They were way too panicked for it to have been just a good old- wait. How did you know, Iwa-chan? Is that why you came here?”  
  
Ever since five years ago, he’s avoided showing himself to anyone else who might know him, choosing to spend his entire time caring for Oikawa, preparing his food, cleaning his house, drying his frustrated tears, reminding him to rest and eat. It’s a far cry from how busy he used to be, but it’s a choice he’s made. After all, it’s not like he’s trapped with the other. It’s not like he doesn’t have anything to entertain him during those peaceful times.  
  
“You’re still too loud, idiot. Do you want to be bitten by them, is that it?”  
  
“No way! My beauty will be forever tarnished!”  
  
“Then shut the hell up, will you? I’m trying to find our way out of here.”  
  
He then thinks about it for a few more seconds, before he drags Oikawa to one of the couches, setting him in place. He thinks he saw Oikawa’s leg tremble for a bit, something unrelated to the fearsome situation unfurling in the cities.  
  
Someone had managed to get hold of the banned RTS virus samples and had apparently infected a whole lot of people who didn’t have any injuries to be repaired. Apparently, RTS can do repairwork for brain tissue - only that the repair it does is apparently to revert humans back to their earlier evolutionary settings, which is driven by animalistic tendencies.  
  
Infected people have then started growing berserk, attempting to destroy anything within reach, clawing and biting everything in its way. A crowded city like Tokyo is immediately overrun with civilians fleeing from the infected. Mindless and unrestricted by common sense, the infected fight and struggle and survive even when injured and shot, prompting the mass media to hail them as zombies.  
  
Zombies sound just about right.  
  
In just six hours, Tokyo has turned into a catastrophe zone.  
  
Miyagi is a few kilometers away - the full brunt of the chaos will descend here soon.  
  
He needs to get Oikawa away from here as soon as possible.  
  
He has a phone in his pants’ pocket but he doesn’t dare take it out and use it. He’s not embarrassed by the fact that his lock screen wallpaper is Oikawa’s face - well, okay, he’s a little embarrassed. But he doesn’t want to open it in Oikawa’s vicinity, because his text history and contacts list contain pretty sensitive information. He doesn’t need the other’s freak-out now.  
  
He opens the computer on the coach’s desk, drumming his fingers against the keyboard in anticipation as the computer boots up incredibly slowly. He’s pretty sure it’s not just because he’s used to computers that are faster than this, but it still gets at him, nags at his impatience.  
  
He paces around the room, plugging in Oikawa’s phone and his powerbank on one corner of the room, rummaging around the cabinet on the far left for some medical supplies. With the way things are going, electricity and communication will be cut off and the humanity who has relied so much on technology for so long will find itself spinning out of control.  
  
“Iwa-chan-”  
  
“Injured people should be quiet,” he hisses back, ignoring the other’s pout. Oikawa is one huge distraction, something that he can’t afford as he clicks on the browser, thanking the gods that the internet connection is still working. He downloads the most comprehensive street map of Japan he can get his hands on to his flash drive, printing it as well for good measure.  
  
Keeping an eye for Oikawa to make sure he doesn’t bounce about and read over his shoulder, he accesses the email account and types out a set of instructions before hitting send. There’s a number of things that’s running through his mind, but the main priority at the moment is to get Oikawa to safety.  
  
“It will be okay,” he says out loud, a bit rough because he’s not used to saying reassurances. Sure, he’s had to say them quite a bit when they were still students, but recently... Oikawa’s never needed him to say these things. “I’ll make sure to keep your princess self away from those zombies.”  
  
Oikawa blinks at him, surprised once more.  
  
Things have already changed for the worse, but they’ll be okay.  
  
Together, they’ll be okay.  
  
Slowly, a smile curves over Oikawa’s lips. It seems that he’s also understood that fact.  
  
“Ahhh, Iwa-chan, don’t you know that you’ll jinx us by saying the z-word?!”  
  
“You said it earlier too, stupid.”  
  
“I’m not stupid, you’re stupid!”  
  
He doesn’t want to trade this childish, stupid, annoying, irritating man for anything.  
  


**\- two minutes ago -**

  
  
He watches Oikawa sleep fitfully, but at least he’s sleeping, despite the white noise composed of growling zombies pressing in from all sides. Since the other is asleep for now, it’s now safe to check on his phone, and true enough, he’s received a couple of messages:

>   
>    
>  -  
>    
>  _email excerpt from akaashi keiji:_  
>    
>  Oikawa-san, I only have the incomplete version of the virus. It could be Kenma-san.  
>    
>  -  
>    
>  _email excerpt from ----------:_  
>    
>  Oikawa, are you okay? We’re hiding out in that mall near Seijou--  
>    
>  -  
>    
>  _email excerpt from bokuto koutarou:_  
>    
>  HEY HEY HEY, OIKAWA MY BRO. TOOBRO. HW CM U NVR VISIT ME???? ANYWAY IM STIL KICKIN EVEN THO THE DOCS SAID THAT I SHOULDNT BE ANYMOR AND MY TIME IS UP BUT HEY I CAN STILL PLAY IN THAT MATCH NEXT 2 WEEKS!  
>    
>  -  
>    
>  _email excerpt from sugawara koushi:_  
>    
>  please help me its not my fault i didnt mean for it to happen  
>    
>  -  
>    
>  _email excerpt from hinata shoyou:_  
>    
>  hey!!!! i was there on your funeral, but you’re actually alive??? that’s so cool! did you cause all of these zombies then? can you make them go away? they’re destroying the stadium and we have a match there in like 2 weeks??? tobio’s all grumpy and scared but he won’t admit it because of all of these things tryin’ to bite him and it’s kinda funny but i won’t forgive you if tobio’s hurt ya know?  
>    
>  -  
>    
>  _email excerpt from [blocked number]:_  
>    
>  Hello.  
>    
>  Who are you?  
>    
>  You’re neither Oikawa Tooru nor Iwaizumi Hajime.

  
  
**\- two quarters and two months before two years before two years ago -**

  
  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
  
“It was painless. He’s in a more peaceful place now. I’m... sorry for your loss, Oikawa-san. I know Iwaizumi-san was someone very dear to you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
*** chapter one point five: the one and only***

  
**\- six years ago -**  
  


If they won’t look at me anymore... I can take their eyes. But their eyes are so pretty so I’d really rather not. I can’t harm them too. So if they won’t look at me anymore... I can just remove everything else they’re looking at.  
  
That works fine, doesn’t it?  
  


 

*** to be continued***  
  
  
  



	2. the two smiles of akaashi keiji

*** chapter two: the two smiles of akaashi keiji***

  
**\- two years before two years before two years ago -**

  
“Bokuto-san, you look ridiculous.”  
  
“A-KA-A-SHI, you’re supposed to back me up on this!” Bokuto whines as he does his best to tug his shirt down his stomach. “You’re supposed to tell me that I look as handsome and cool as ever!”  
  
“I’m not a liar, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“AKAASHI!”  
  
Akaashi sighs, but there’s fondness deep within him as he saves the paper he’s working on. Once he hears the ding telling him that the words he’s been working on for the past three hours are saved, he makes his way from his desk and helps Bokuto out of his predicament.  
  
The predicament being - he can’t fit into his old Fukurodani jersey anymore.  
  
“Must you wear this jersey to your gathering?”  
  
“I must, Akaashi! Kuroo, that bastard, texted me and told me that he’s wearing his Nekoma jersey and that Kenma’s been hinting at him to work out more so he’s skinnier and sexier than me now! I cannot stand for it, Akaashi!”  
  
Due to the exhausting nature of his work, Akaashi hasn’t had the time to catch up with Kenma as much as he would have liked. However, it’s not surprising to know that Kenma’s been asking Kuroo to go out more. After all, ever since Kuroo followed Kenma to university and into his computer science studies, Kuroo’s been staying at home longer. Kenma probably can’t take that much closeness, especially since his friend is kind of a nagging mother-hen towards him.  
  
“Kuroo-san’s always been sexier than you though.”  
  
“AKAASHI, you were supposed to back me up there too! How dare that devious Kuroo snatch away your eyes from me! We need to resolve this!”  
  
It’s not something that can be resolved by the struggle that Bokuto’s going through though. He’s still tugging his shirt down in an effort to cover his abs properly, wincing at how the cloth digs into his biceps. He’s grown bulkier and more muscular ever since high school, after all.  
  
“I’m not sure why you thought it---”  
  
Beaming, Bokuto cries out: “Akaashi!”  
  
“---but I’ve never set my eyes on you anyway, so you shouldn’t be mad.”   
  
Bokuto scruffs his toe against the carpet, visibly deflating.  
  
Akaashi smiles as he says all this though, moving on to the lowest part of his cabinet, where he stores all the knickknacks and souvenirs that Bokuto can’t seem to let go of, including the Fukurodani jacket.  
  
“URGH! You’re always so mean!” But Bokuto still lets Akaashi drape the jacket over his shoulders, hiding the more unseemly sights of his outfit.  
  
“Now, Bokuto-san, I won’t be there, so please don’t flap your arms around too much that you’ll lose your jacket. My old one definitely won’t fit you.”  
  
Bokuto harrumphs, crossing his arms over his chest (or attempting to, at least). “I don’t get it! Why won’t they invite the vice-captains too! You could go with me!”  
  
“It’s for the captains, Bokuto-san,” and Akaashi needs to complete his work without any distractions.  
  
“Urgh!”  
  
“Have fun with Kuroo-san and please don’t torment Sawamura-san and Oikawa-san too much.”  
  
“I can’t promise that!”  
  
“Don’t drink too much alcohol and please give my number to the bartender and to Sawamura-san so they can call me when I need to pick you up.”  
  
“I won’t be that drunk!”  
  
“That’s what you said last week and I had to--”  
  
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry about that!”  
  
Akaashi still feels the smile playing on his lips.  
  
“Have a good time, Bokuto-san.”  
  
(but only because they didn’t know at that time: that gathering was the beginning of hell)  
  


**\- two half-years before two years ago -**

  
  
“Bokuto-san, I’ll come back tomorrow. Rest well.”  
  
Akaashi says that to an unmoving man, to an unresponsive room. He keeps his head bowed low as he retraces the steps he’s been taking since twelve days ago when Bokuto-san uncharacteristically started violently throwing things around, arms bulging but unyielding as he threw the heavy wooden cabinet Akaashi has towards the messy chaos that used to be their shared apartment.  
  
Doctors, experts, researchers have no words to explain what happened, what’s happening, what’s going to happen. It’s all “I’m sorry”, “we’ll keep an eye on him”. It’s all nothing that can calm Akaashi down, nothing that can give him hope that everything will be okay.  
  
Bokuto’s temper has been getting shorter and shorter recently, but he knows Bokuto and he knows that he dislikes the thought of harming anything. The violent, beastly, Bokuto that threw their furniture around is a Bokuto that Akaashi doesn’t know.  
  
Bokuto’s parents only came by for the interview - news reporters flocked to the hospital, news about one of Japan’s top athletes suddenly going to hospital piquing their interest for what passes as news nowadays. They recognize Akaashi - by now, how could they not, given the way he’s been by Bokuto’s side for the past few years - but nobody vocalizes the strong devotion Akaashi must have to sit by the comatose Bokuto’s side for twelve days straight.  
  
Nothing’s going to be okay anymore, with the way things are going.  
  
But Akaashi is persistent and stubborn, in his own way.  
  
While he’s been glued to Bokuto’s side, he didn’t spend all of those hours staring at nothing, praying for miracles. He brought his laptop with him and he’s been pouring over website after website after research paper after research paper as he looks for any hints as to how he can cure Bokuto.  
  
He keeps his head ducked down, though he nods at one of the nurses that he passes by - she’s someone who’s been helping check Bokuto’s vital signs on the sixth and ninth day - but he doesn’t return the relieved smile that she has. She’s probably thinking that it’s good that he’s going home and getting some rest.  
  
She’s wrong.  
  
The only reason he’s leaving Bokuto’s side now is because he has come across a lead, a spark of idea that can help Bokuto.  
  
He supposes he can wonder about why that person is involved in things such as virus development, given that the other isn’t particularly linked in the biological field. He supposes he can wonder about why that person agreed to meet him, given that the work he’s doing is highly illegal. He supposes he can wonder about why that person is doing this.  
  
He can, but he doesn’t.  
  
After all, what matters is that there’s an email showing words of agreement to have Akaashi join in the research for what’s tentatively named “Retro-Transformation Syndrome” Virus.  
  
After all, what matters is that there’s still hope in saving Bokuto from the unexplainable disease that’s eating his brain.  
  
After all, what matters right now is that he can meet face-to-face with Oikawa Tooru, the leader for the virus development.

  
  
**\- two quarters before two years ago -**

  
“Bokuto-san, you did well today.”  
  
“I know, right??? I’m awesome, hey hey hey!”  
  
Akaashi smiles upon hearing that energetic response, even as he’s fumbling about with handing the face towels and water bottles to Bokuto.   
  
It’s sort of magical to see how someone can fight against all odds - even the doctors are baffled as to how someone with that much brain damage can still move about freely, still do straight spikes with such force the ball bounces up to the stands after it hits the floor, still live life like he’s in one great uplifting movie.  
  
Akaashi’s heart beats to the ticking of clocks, knowing that this extended relief is all he can do for now, given that a mismatched trio of not-doctors, not-experts, not-researchers, are working on finding a cure. Yet their ragged teamwork is all Akaashi can count on to save this important person’s life.   
  
Even if he doesn’t really know Oikawa Tooru, even if he hasn’t met that guy face-to-face since six months ago. Even if he hasn’t really found the time to actually meet up with Kenma since he had invited the other to join their research effort.   
  
Their respective work and commitments prevent them from actually coming together and working at the same place at the same time, but he trusts them to do whatever it takes.  
  
After all, it’s not like he has any other choice left.  
  
“Try not to be too excited, Bokuto-san,” he chides the other half-heartedly, torn between wanting to keep on seeing this cheerful side of the man and wanting to just have the other sit still, retain his energy, stay away from harm.  
  
“Ahahaha! How can I not be excited??? I’m finally facing off against that dynamic duo’s quick strike again! I’m so excited!”  
  
Akaashi’s never been baffled by the strange rapport that Bokuto has developed with Hinata Shouyou, he supposes that birds of the same feather really do flock together. “Well, if you get too tired now, you won’t be able to participate in the match.”  
  
Bokuto deflates immediately after that, stiffly sitting back down.  
  
A sigh leaves Akaashi’s lips at the other’s dejected look, knowing that it’s only a matter of minutes before Bokuto goes into full dejection mode.  
  
“Let’s eat ice cream on the way home, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“Really?! You never let me eat ice cream anymore! You’re so nice today, Akaashi! Can I pick the flavor? Can I, can I?”  
  
Akaashi smiles faintly, fondness swelling deep inside of him once more.   
  
“I’ll get you whatever you want.”  
  


**\- two days ago -**

  
“Bokuto-san, please sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”  
  
Akaashi says that to a man pouting very much like a kid who just got his candy stolen.   
  
Despite his words implying that both of them will have a rather exhausting day tomorrow, Akaashi isn’t about to sleep anytime soon. He flits around the hospital room, hands quickly skimming the windowpanes to test the locks, briskly drawing the curtains shut, plugging multitudes of electronic devices like his phone and two powerbanks into different power sockets, folding and packing clothes into duffel bags.  
  
“You should sleep too, then!” Bokuto huffs and puffs his cheeks. “And I’m not sleepy at all!”  
  
“You will be soon,” Akaashi mutters under his breath, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to have heard his words. “Will you stop sulking if I make you hot chocolate?”  
  
“With marshmallows!”  
  
“...with a tiny bit of marshmallows.”  
  
With the practiced motion of someone who’s done this hundreds of times, Akaashi easily rummages through the mini-kitchen of the room, endlessly thankful that Bokuto’s status as one of the top players in the National Team earning him an all-expense paid hospital room while he recovers from another... one of his attacks.  
  
Of course, the only reason sponsors have flocked into providing the needed funds is all the publicity this brings them: young and brilliant sports players with a bright future, taken away by some unforgiving disease; at least he didn’t suffer, sponsors have made sure that he passed along peacefully.  
  
Akaashi hates them all for thinking of Bokuto like that.  
  
“Here you go, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“Thanks, Akaashi! You always make the chocolate the way I like it!”  
  
That’s more likely because Akaashi has done this hundreds, maybe thousands of times. It’s hard to fail at something you’ve had multiple attempts at trying to get right.  
  
“...It’s no problem.”  
  
Bokuto doesn’t comment if he has tasted anything else aside from chocolate and marshmallows and sugar on his drink. In a few minutes, Bokuto eventually nods off, nearly letting go of the still half-full mug, if not for Akaashi anticipating it and already moving to catch it before anything spilled.  
  
With only the hum of the airconditioning to accompany him, Akaashi’s thoughts are very loud, punctuated by groans that he can hear despite the relatively high floor they’re at. He thinks that he’s half-imagining the sounds, but even a fifty percent chance is too much.  
  
It’s only been two hours since he found proof that RTS in an uncontrolled environment can spread rapidly, its effects manifesting in its victims within thirty minutes at the quickest. It’s only been two hours since then and there’s probably only so much time that he has left before multitudes of cities are crippled by the virus.  
  
He debates with himself the pros and cons of waking Bokuto up for their transportation to a safer place. Being right in the middle of the Tokyo metropolis is convenient when the city’s all normal, but now that everything’s being dragged to hell, it’s infinitely safer if they relocate to a place with populations not breaking a hundred.  
  
Option A. He wakes Bokuto up and the other’s fine. No problem.  
Option B. He wakes Bokuto up, but his condition strikes again, compromising their transport.  
Option C. He doesn’t wake Bokuto up and doesn’t encounter any risks of the other falling off their mode of transportation.  
  
He definitely needs to go for Option C, though Bokuto will really enjoy being awake for the move.  
  
In the end, Bokuto’s safety is the top priority.  
  
Once he’s all healed, they can always do this again.  
  
Once, not if.  
  
The power of belief works miracles, they say.  
  
He makes sure all of his gadgets are fully charged before he stows them away, leaving only his cellphone out. He dials a number that he has memorized by heart, despite his strong negative feelings about dealing with the other party. He then dials the 21-digit passcode when prompted, his fingers gripping the edges of Bokuto’s white hospital blanket as he waits for the confirmation tone to resound.  
  
His mind runs through a number of different scenarios, each one worse than the last. There’s only so much his money can buy. There’s only so much his mind can foresee. There’s only so much he can do in this scenario.  
  
He flinches when he finally hears the confirmation he’s waiting for.  
  
 _[ Akaashi Keiji-sama, the helicopter will arrive at the Tokyo General Hospital helipad at 23:00 today. Would you like to order anything else? ]_  
  
If only salvation and happiness is this easy to order, the world will probably become a much better place.  
  
“...Yes. Please include two survival kits, a portable operation kit, two satellite phones, one 9mm handgun, a rifle and a machine gun.”  
  
 _[ Order accepted. Do you have any other preferences for the gun models? ]_  
  
“None.”  
  
 _[ Order confirmed. Would you like to know your remaining balance? ]_  
  
Even after deducting the exorbitant delivery fees, Akaashi knows that he still has at least ten million yen left.  
  
“It’s fine. Just make sure that the helicopter is equipped with weapons.”  
  
 _[ There’s no need to worry, all of our helicopters are furnished with a state of the art radar,  air-to-land missiles, interceptor-- ]_  
  
Akaashi’s not very well-versed with weaponry, so he can’t exactly comment on the specs being rattled. It’s better to cut the operator off before the other party gets wind of his apparent ignorance when it comes to the arms he’s supposed to know a lot about. “Got it. Thank you.”  
  
 _[ Thank you again for your order, Akaashi Keiji-sama  The current Oyabun sends his regards. ]_  
  
The line clicks off.  
  
With the way things are going, telephone lines, internet connections, gas supply and water supply will be cut off should the government be unable to contain the chaotic spread of the infection. It’s probably still too much to hope that that’s the end of his interactions with the other party.  
  
They still want him to be a part of their arms dealer group, after all.  
  


**\- two minutes ago -**

  
  
“Bokuto-san, it’s nothing.”  
  
“It doesn’t feel like nothing! It doesn’t sound like nothing!”  
  
“Trust me, Bokuto-san. Have I ever lied to you?”  
  
“No! I trust you, Akaashi! But it doesn’t---”  
  
“Just go back to sleep, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“Akaashi---”  
  
Akaashi sighs as he pushes the quick-effect sedative into the IV hooked into Bokuto’s knuckle. It’s a good thing that he rummaged through the hospital’s medicine storage room before flying that helicopter, because he didn’t think to include that kind of medication in his order.  
  
He knows that it’s annoying to be kept out of the loop, but someone like Bokuto literally cannot keep a secret and cannot stay still and cannot keep his voice down. The two of them will be in another world of trouble should their hideout be overrun by the infected.  
  
His shoulder aches as he targets and shoots the two approaching infected from nearly a hundred meters away. The scope picks up their sluggish gait, even the vaguest details of their faces - or what used to be their faces, in some cases. He shoots them all down without dwelling too much about their identities, whether someone out there considers them in high esteem.  
  
There are other people capable of feeling what Akaashi feels for Bokuto, but he doesn’t care for those other people now that he has Bokuto strapped down to his bed in preparation for the violent outbursts he has no control over. Now that he has Bokuto with him in this hideout that’s supposed to be one of the safest in the country.  
  
He quickly scans the vicinity for any more infected intruders, but finds none. The lull gives him enough time to peruse the new messages on his phone, picked up because there’s still some cell towers that remain standing and functional.

>   
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from oikawa tooru:_  
>   
>  I don’t appreciate being lied to, Akaashi-san~♪  
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from kuroo tetsurou:_  
>   
>  Did Kenma tell you about this plan of his?  
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from tsukishima kei:_  
>   
>  We’re making our way to Hokkaido. Akiteru’s there for his work and he told me that there are refugee camps being made there. There are some talks about evacuation to another country. Let me know if you’re coming.  
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from sugawara koushi:_  
>   
>  Hey, it’s Sugawara. Do you have a minute? Do you think we can meet up? Thanks!  
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from [blocked number]:_  
>   
>  Your balance as of XX,XX,20XX, 19:00 is ¥11,796,451.03.  
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from [blocked number]:_  
>   
>  Oyabun, we have prepared the next set of warehouses for you. Please be safe.  
>   
> -  
>   
>  _email excerpt from [blocked number]:_  
>   
>  Hello.   
>   
> Excellent work in infecting Ushijima Wakatoshi.  
>   
> However, don’t think that you can spread the virus as you please.

  
  
**\- two days after two half-years before two years ago -**

  
...  
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...  
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...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
  
“I’m glad to hear that you’re embracing your roots now, Keiji. Welcome back to the Family! You know, I’ve heard of rumors that you’re off gallivanting with some athlete of sorts. You know how I feel about that, don’t you, Keiji? You are my only successor so you can’t have this love nonsense. You do understand, don’t you, Keiji? Ah... That chilling sort of smile really means that you’re my true successor. It tells me that you want to kill me because of my words. Is that true, son?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
*** chapter two point five: the two who are here***

  
**\- six years ago** -

  
It’s supposed to be a reunion party for the captains of the volleyball circuit during high school, but there are some who don’t belong here. It makes the count uneven for what was prepared for them, but it doesn’t matter that much.  
  
As long as he’s here, it’s fine, right?

 

 

  
  
*** to be continued***   
*** up next: the three faces of sugawara koushi***   
*** up next: the four wishes of oikawa tooru***


	3. chapter three: the three faces of sugawara koushi

*** chapter three: the three faces of sugawara koushi ***

**- two quarters and two weeks before two years before two years ago -**

 

“Don’t frown like that, Daichi.”

Despite everyone remaining in touch since their high school graduation, successfully bringing Karasuno back to its grandiose nest of the national stage, it’s rare that everyone’s able to sync up their schedules and meet up for a reunion.

Of course, club members come and go, but their group is the one hailed to have brought the Golden Age of the Flightless Crows. They have formed bonds that cannot be broken easily—even if Daichi’s eyebrows seem to be permanently etched in that sharp angle as he frowns at the tireless antics of Nishinoya and Tanaka.

“That’s the _third_ glass that they broke,” Daichi murmurs in despair, one hand lifting to rub at his temples.

“You _love_ them this way.”

“I do not.”

He half-hides his grin underneath a raised hand, but he’s sure that his eyes are warm with happiness, “Tsk, tsk, I can see your proud dad smile from here, Daichi.”

“Don’t let the kids hear that, _mom_ , or else they’ll break more plates and we’ll be kicked out of this inn.”

He knows his cheeks flush pink from that comment - it’s one thing to hear his kouhai teasingly call him the team’s mother, but it’s one thing to hear it from Daichi. Luckily, the inn’s sliding doors are set wide open to let in the harsh summer sun, so he has plausible deniability about the cause of his blushing.

But then again, it’s not like Daichi will even harass him about his sudden blushing.

And then again, it’s not like it matters.

Gathering his composure, he then lifts his hand higher so he can wipe the sweat from his brow. This year’s summer is particularly sweltering, it’s almost unbelievable considering the arctic chill a few months ago. For a brief moment, he remembers himself from roughly six months back, shivering despite the three layers of coats on his person, hands clenching and unclenching as he listens to the priest’s words and that person’s heartbroken sobs.

That winter seems so far away to the summer of today - and he wipes off whatever expression might have surfaced on his face from the recollection.

“Alright, gather up kids, your father has some words to say!”

His kouhai laugh heartily at that, but arrange themselves as properly as expected of a rowdy group of not-teenagers but not-really-adults. There was a gathering just for captains a year or so back, but the last time their group had been complete was two and a half years ago—no, he shouldn’t dwell on that right now.

Daichi is still mock-frowning to his left, seated at the head of the long table. Food that they’ll definitely finish one way or the other decorate the shiny dark wood, the ambiance of their gathering hearty and fun despite the lack of beaches that they had originally planned for.

Making a short speech to thank everyone for their time, Daichi opens their group yet again to hundreds of different conversations, lives intersecting with each other once again.

Nishinoya wrestles with Asahi about something, causing the bigger man to bump shoulders with him, but he doesn’t mind, though he’s infinitely glad that he hasn’t started drinking anything yet. He’s not about to contribute to their group’s damage bill.

Some of them are huddled near the end of the table, Ennoshita looking a bit sour at the happenings beside him, as Takeda-sensei absolutely destroys Ukai-sensei in their arm wrestling game, Tanaka howling with laughter at Ukai-sensei’s horror at the result.

Kageyama and Hinata are bickering as usual, their rivalry and very close relationship still going strong. He briefly remembers the short timeframe where the dynamic duo had been placed on separate teams—it’s probably within the top ten of his most stressful times, given that Hinata alternated between being so destructively hyperactive and manically depressed that it’s almost like _he_ killed a thousand puppies, and especially given that Kageyama had missed his serves twice in an official match - one to the back of Oikawa Tooru’s head, earning him the wrath of that guy’s legion of fangirls, and another one to Ushiwaka’s back, prompting a glare so fearsome, security had filtered in to the court’s sidelines to prevent a homicide from being shown in the livestream broadcast of the Olympics tryouts.

Hinata’s enthusiasm draws his other seatmate’s cheer as well, but for the most part, Yachi keeps to the bubble between herself and Yamaguchi.

He didn’t _expect_ that Yamaguchi would ever turn to Yachi, despite his brief crush on her, just as he didn’t expect Yachi to turn to Yamaguchi too. But then again, nobody could have expected what had happened and his heart clenches in another remembrance.

Is this why their group tends to avoid going for a full reunion?

Are the others as terrified as him when it comes to remembering the past?

It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault anyway, but a human heart is an irrational thing, seeking to blame itself for something that has happened beyond one’s control.

His gaze then travels to the person seated in-between Daichi and Yamaguchi, with a frown so severe it’s almost like he’s in physical pain just being here. They say heartbreak is something that causes someone literal pain and he bites his lip before he blurts out something incriminating here. There’s no use alienating Tsukishima further, not when he has shown how much he cares for the team by showing up here despite his misgivings.

His only wish is that Hinata or Kageyama or both of them aren’t tactless enough to comment as to why Tsukishima is colder than usual, as well as why there’s no renditions of “Shut up, Yamaguchi” and “Sorry, Tsukki” this time.

There’s food, there’s sake, there’s an assortment of video games, there’s a volleyball net set up in the overlooking garden that they have reserved for the occasion, but there’s something still missing.

Sugawara Koushi looks down at his cup of sake, looks down at his hands faintly trembling as he debates starting his own morbid celebration. He’s supposed to be the warm, sweet mother to this team, so he keeps his smile pasted on his face as he downs his drink and refills his cup in one quick motion.

Not for the first time, he bitterly wonders why this world had to go and disrupt their group’s dynamics and kill Shimizu.

**\- two weeks and two quarters before two years ago -**

“...What’s going on, Daichi?”

It’s probably nothing, but there’s already so many things that have happened that will prevent him from just chucking Daichi’s inconsistencies and strangeness in the past couple of weeks to mere chance.

He’s not particularly possessive or clingy to his housemate, but Daichi never misses any of their weekend movie nights - or at least, he’s never missed one ever since he has started acting strange. Daichi never becomes so sleep-deprived that he walks into walls or doors or mirrors, but there’s already a spread of bruises all over his skin from bumping all over the place. Daichi never changes his passwords to his phone, email or social media accounts - or at least, he’s never made a password difficult for him to guess, until recently.

It’s just his duty as a housemate, really.

He’s merely fulfilling the promise he made to Daichi’s parents when they had visited their bachelor’s pad, among others.

There’s a lull in his work, thank goodness for its seasonal nature, so it’s fairly easy to request for an extended time-off. He tells his nosier coworkers that he’ll be travelling a bit to do some sight-seeing, lightly promising some treats from the places he will visit. Thankfully, he doesn’t have coworkers that he’s friendly enough with to actually follow through asking him details about his vacation.

It’s not like he _lied_.

He’s actually travelling across fairly different places since Daichi is a glorified salesman, visiting one company after another to make a sales pitch for his bigshot company. An average day takes Daichi to at least four companies, usually within the same ward or prefecture, though there have been some days when following Daichi had brought him to Akita and Kyoto.

Train fares are hiking up and he’s just glad that he’s never really had a long vacation before, easily keeping his savings safe from any big splurges on long trips.

This is just regular housemate duty, because he still remembers that person’s sobs every now and then. Because he still remembers how energetic Bokuto Koutarou is, even if he’s drugged up to his eyeballs now and strapped close to his bed to stop him from tearing his room apart when his disease strikes. Because he still remembers how composed Kuroo Tetsurou is, even if he’s now apparently a shut-in who lives in a tiny 4x4 tatami room with windows fully boarded up, jumping and twitching and literally pissing himself when exposed to anything from the outside world.

Those two had apparently acted strange a few weeks before their worse symptoms started manifesting.

He’s not about to let Daichi go through the same thing.

...which brings him here, smack in the middle of the red-light district, instinctively knowing that whatever business deal or sales pitch Daichi is working on, it’s definitely not supposed to be done here.

Daichi has gone inside Black Butterfly; a quick internet search tells him that it’s an invite-only place that has strict membership rules.

He pockets his phone, only needing a few seconds to come to a decision.

He waits - though not for long - a block away from the club’s entrance, face morphing to a charming grin when he sees someone stroll out of the doors. The club is located in a fairly well-to-do street, meaning less people and more respect for one’s dirty secrets.

He doesn’t recognize the businessman he’s approaching, though he recognizes the heavy set of gold in the other’s huge watch and the shine of gemstones on the other’s cufflinks. Incredibly tacky and disgustingly arrogant, but he’s not here to worry about this man’s life decisions.

He’s here to make friends and hopefully snag the other’s VIP card for Black Butterfly.

He sidles up to the man, not wasting time in letting his fingers do the talking, whispering in broad daylight about how he likes rich men with each flutter against the other man’s ass. The other man strides away purposely, but his resolve only lasts for a dozen or so steps with him literally hanging on to the other man’s elbow along the way. He doesn’t give the businessman a chance to question the way he’s practically throwing himself inside the other’s pants; the moment the other stops, he lets his left hand drop and his fingers start feather-light touches against the man’s inner thigh, keeping his eyelids heavy and full of promise once their clothes fall away.

It doesn’t even take an hour before he’s inside Black Butterfly, the bouncer not questioning his entrance the moment he presented the gold-laminated card.

Daichi is nowhere in sight.

He resigns himself to a tiresome game of tag, as he keeps his charming grin on his face, approaching one of the guards posted along the hallways to ensure that their patrons play nice with their courtesans.

...He’s just—

He’s just doing his duty.

**\- two days ago -**

“Daichi will say the same thing.”

It’s not often that he gets the chance to talk with Tsukishima and Hinata, given their wildly different careers, but of course during this rare chance, Hinata remains straightforward enough that he easily comments as to how it’s weird that Tsukishima doesn’t go and cheer his boyfriend on during their practices.

“...It’s not really your business.” But Tsukishima is hesitating, his hands in front of him, grasping at his fingers, at the hem of his shirt. He’s never been the type to explain himself in so many words to them before, but he’s visibly troubled now. To the point that he’s even volunteering these details: “We’re not that serious, anyway. Plus, it’s _Ushijima_.”

Hinata scrunches his nose, causing him to wonder how Hinata was able to handle being Ushiwaka’s teammate during National games.

“It doesn’t really make sense, you know???” Hinata bounces on his heels as he berates Tsukishima about his life choices. “Why choose Ushiwakawaka-chan when there’s Yamaguchi?”

“There’s _no_ Yamaguchi.”

Frosty and the teensiest bit resigned - as though this is a question that has long plagued him.

“Yachi seems happy with him.” He doesn’t see his _kouhai_ that often, but he knows from different social media accounts that those two had spent the last New Year’s together with Yachi’s family. That doesn’t seem to be a light commitment, by any means. “And Yamaguchi seems happy too.”

Hinata tilts his head, gaining that spark of seriousness that always makes everyone be on their toes around him. “But they’re definitely _just_ friends, you know!”

“They spent the New Year’s together though.” He can’t help but point it out, seeing Tsukishima flinch. “And it’s with her family too.”

“No big deal! I bring Tobio over to meet Natsu all the time!”

“But you aren’t _just_ friends, are you?”

After all this time, he doesn’t think that Hinata just simply _forgot_.

“Well, no. But that isn’t the point!”

“Shut up, Hinata, you’re fucking noisy.” Tsukishima eventually grinds out, his hands now curled into fists by his sides. There’s a spark back in his eyes though, almost as if he’s regained confidence.

“No matter what though, shouldn’t you fight for your feelings? You should always aim to get your feelings across properly and surely they will respond. You shouldn’t just settle for some mediocre happiness, Tsukishima. Daichi will definitely agree.”

Hinata and Tsukishima both look at him strangely for a moment, but said moment breaks when Hinata ends up stubbing his toe against an outdoor cafe’s chair.

Sugawara laughs and beckons the two to sit down on said cafe, just for a few minutes for some coffee, his treat.

Who knows when they would get a chance to see each other again, after all?

**\- two minutes ago -**

“I will survive, I will survive, I will survive—”

He’s texted all the people who could possibly assist him at this point. It doesn’t sit well with him, the fact that he basically has to wait to be rescued. For uncertainty.

If only he had a little more foresight.

If only he had a little more distrust.

If only, if only, if only.

He should have smuggled more virus samples, even if they weren’t working fully. He still remembers some of the chemicals and formula that he was handling. For the sake of faster and safer work, the project was divided amongst a couple of researchers that he doesn’t know. So nobody should have a complete copy of the virus—should.But then again, it seems that there’s one person who was able to get the full version of RTS and ended up causing havoc.

He was so close.

So close.

“I will survive—”

He half-crawls, half-coughs his way to the cafe where he last had coffee with Tsukishima and Hinata. This area is one of the first victims of the RTS spread; it’s mostly devoid of life, with only the occassional zombie or two every hour or so. It should be fairly safe here, but then again the biggest threat to Sugawara at the moment isn’t his location.

His carelessness cost him a bite-mark on his upper arm, a sweet smell of honeyed remains in his nose. He doesn’t even have anything with him beyond his phone, ID badge and his bookbag. He should have prepared himself before going out today.

He trusted Iwaizumi.

That’s... That’s a statement that he could never say out loud.

After all, it’s hard to be considered normal when you trust a dead guy.

But then again, the elaborate RTS Research Recruitment message he had received had Iwaizumi Hajime’s name and information in it.

In his mind, it didn’t really matter.

If Iwaizumi was really dead, then the research would definitely succeed, given that they had the power of supernatural and necromancy on their side.

If Iwaizumi was the one who was really alive, then it meant that Oikawa was most likely the one had died. And if Oikawa’s dead, Iwaizumi would be really motivated to develop the drug, ensuring its success.

It’s a win-win situation for him.

So he trusted Iwaizumi.

“I will survive—”

He coughs wetly, but he steadfastly ignores the trickle of blood down his arm, down his chin. He struggles inside the cafe, eyes going wide as he registers the sight in front of him.

His phone vibrates inside his pocket, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

After all, it’s not everyday that he sees Ushijima Wakatoshi this vulnerable.

More importantly, he’s twitching and moaning like a wounded beast.

Most importantly, there’s a drink the color of coffee mixed with blood just a few meters away from the infected super ace. As one of its developers, he definitely recognizes the RTS drink vessel.

Sugawara Koushi grins for the first time in days.

He will survive.

**\- two quarters and two months before two years before two years ago -**

...

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...

“It was painless. He’s in a more peaceful place now. I’m... sorry for your loss, Oikawa-san. I know Iwaizumi-san was someone very dear to you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*** chapter three point five: the third law***

**\- six years ago -**

Just because he has that little bit of bravery...

Just because of the littlest thing...

Just because he was the one there...

It doesn’t mean that he can own someone who shouldn’t be owned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> \- and the first arc is done! I'm so meh @ writing koushi and I'm even more errgh due to lack of practice w/writing recently. but at least it's one chapter done!  
> \- if you found sugawara's chapter a bit...weird/off, that's 99% just as keikaku (t/n: keikaku = plan) :P
> 
> \- “Three Faces of Sugawara Koushi” is based on the “three faces of Eve” (steady/wise wife, predatory seductress, innocent child)  
> \- “The Third Law” is based on Newton’s Third Law of Motion (the action:reaction one)
> 
> \- The next set of chapters will be more of the usual zombie fare, so less focus on the dodgy past & more focus on the aftermath of a certain someone’s poor life choices  
> \- Still finalizing the exact list and order, but the next POV characters will definitely be Oikawa, Bokuto, Kenma, Yamaguchi and Hinata~~~  
> \- Also, writing liars lie to other liars = a favorite of mine


	4. interlude: a certain known timeline

~ 7 years ago - Funeral for Shimizu Kiyoko

 

~ 6 years ago    - Captains Reunion Party, attended by Bokuto Koutarou, Sawamura Daichi, ???

                         - Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka start going out—

 

~ 5 years ago    - Funeral for Iwaizumi Hajime

 

~ 4.5 years ago - Karasuno reunion at the Toudou Inn

 

~ 3 years ago    - Bokuto Koutarou contracts a strange disease that causes him to be inhumanly violent

                         - Akaashi Keiji finds a group developing RTS

 

~ 2.5 years ago - Sawamura Daichi start acting strange

 

~ 2 years ago    - News of RTS development become publicized and research on it was stopped

 

~ 1 year ago     - Bokuto Koutarou gets diagnosed that he only has 1 year left to live

 

~ 2 days ago     - Sugawara Koushi meets up with Tsukishima Kei and Hinata Shouyou

                         - First public infection of RTS starts in Tokyo (7 Chome-3-1 Hongo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm currently still doing the actual 4th chapter, but I got a request to post a timeline of sorts to make things easier (or more difficult???) for the readers, so here goes! :)
> 
> also, I'm scrapping the next chapter's title and remaking it to "the four directions" instead, as it will focus on 4 directions of where the cast are located.
> 
> we'll have:
> 
> NORTH - Hakodate Airport, Hokkaido - Akiteru, most of Karasuno babies, ???  
> SOUTH - JAXA Facility, Tanegashima - Akaashi & Bokuto  
> WEST - Tenryuji Temple, Kyoto - Kenma & Kuroo, ???  
> EAST - Imperial Palace, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo - Oikawa, ???, ???, ???


	5. the four directions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warning** : the last part of the chapter might be disturbing if you’re not a fan/not familiar with survival horror stuff. I don’t want to warn for specifics since it will remove the element of surprise =/

*** chapter four: the four directions***   
  


 

**\- four days after: DEC 07 2021 -**  
\- Tenryuji Temple, Kyoto -  
 **<** _in the west: tigers burning bright_ **>**

 

  
Strange doesn’t even begin to describe the world that he wakes to.   
  
‘Annoying’ fits better, truth be told.  
  
Instead of his preferred routine of first groping about for the snooze button of his alarm clock, now he immediately snaps into attention, his eyes wide and bright even before the first crack of sunlight pierces the clouds. His eyes trace the faint line of rope secured on his wrist, the weight on his skin just an added responsibility that he cannot pass to another. His sight then follows the rope to its other end, ending on another wrist that belongs to a man that he’s never wished to be physically bound to him.  
  
Kozume Kenma doesn’t even have the luxury of yawning.  
  
He stays stock-still, his breathing mixing with the silence of the temple he broke into, his eyes trained on Kuroo’s prone form. He strains his ears to make sure that he’s able to hear any and all noise - he’s never been the most athletic person and he has Kuroo to look after. He can’t be too late in noticing those zombie creatures arriving.  
  
Sunlight starts to filter through the clouds and Kuroo twitches into wakefulness.  
  
“...Kenma...?”  
  
Kuroo doesn’t wake up, not truly.  
  
“I’m here, Kuroo,” he says as softly as possible, to not break this careful illusion. Kuroo’s cloaked by the dark, but he’ll soon realize that there’s light and he’ll panic. Just like yesterday and the day before and the years before.  
  
This Kuroo and the Kuro who’s been with him all his life are one and the same but Kenma can’t bring himself to bridge that gap.  
  
Not while Kuroo’s like this.  
  
“...I’m...scared...”  
  
Kenma doesn’t sigh in impatience nor does he snap at the pathetic trembling. He only shuffles closer to the other’s body, dragging the sliding door close to prevent the morning sun or the cherry blossom trees outside from peeking into their life.  
  
“I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”  
  
Not that long ago and it’s Kenma on the other end of such valiant reassurances. It’s possible that it’s karma in its cruelest form - making Kenma pay for simply relaxing and allowing Kuro to take care of him.  
  
“I’m...scared...”  
  
Kuroo’s vocabulary has been reduced to spineless declarations. Kenma takes them all in a stride. He tries to think of this as positively as he can.  
  
Zombie outbreak? At least that RTS research apparently bore fruit!  
  
Cities overrun with chaos? Break into mountainside temples!  
  
Kuro becomes sick? At least he gets to discover his hidden talents!  
  
World is panicking? At least he has an idea of who the culprit is!  
  
It doesn’t work, 80% of the time. It’s not because he’s a fatalist or that he’s pessimistic. It’s just that - he knows how dangerous that virus could be. He knows how it could destroy whatever Japan or the world is up to at the moment. He knows how permanent this damage could be.  
  
He knows it all, first-hand.  
  
“...Kenma...?”  
  
He can’t bring himself to think about mildly positive things when Kuroo’s only saying a few words in increasing agony minute by hour by day by week by month by year.  
  
There’s no end in sight.  
  
There hasn’t been, since a few years ago.  
  
Kenma supposes that’s why he joined them, despite his initial reservations.  
  
“It’s weird, taking care of you, you know?” He casually asks the Kuroo who doesn’t listen to his words.  
  
It is weird, being the one responsible enough for two people.  
  
Kenma tests the weight of the rope looped into his wrist.  
  
The rope is a new development as they ran towards Kyoto once Kenma learned about the outbreak. Kuroo gets plagued by nightmares that he can’t share with Kenma, his disease robbing him of the power to articulate and indulge in his (previously-denied) favorite hobby of hearing himself talk. Said nightmares more often that not cause him to sleepwalk or toss around violently, rolling himself away from Kenma.  
  
Kenma refuses something like that to be the cause of their separation.  
  
He exhales, his breath fogging up the air the slightest bit.   
  
“Maybe I should meditate...”  
  
After all, he’ll need all the brainpower he can get, especially if he’s correct in suspecting Akaashi or Shouyou releasing the virus.

 

**\- four days after: DEC 07 2021 -**  
\- JAXA Launching Facility, Tanegashima -  
 **<** _in the south: the phoenix reduced to ashes_ **>**

  
  
“I kind of miss eating tamagoyaki with Kuroo!”  
  
Akaashi Keiji is what one could call a grandmaster when it comes to ignoring the whinings of one Bokuto Koutarou.  
  
That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get the slightest bit annoyed whenever the other’s whining begins to adopt that grating high-pitched screech.  
  
Akaashi flinches when Bokuto-san’s voice echoes up-down-all-over the more-or-less abandoned facility.  
  
While he’s been meticulous in cleaning up the facility to ensure that it’s only home to the two of them, he’s now regretting it the tiniest bit that he didn’t leave anyone else. He’s not interested in others, but it would probably be absolutely divine if he can vent about how annoying Bokuto-san can be to someone who’s not Bokuto-san or his own reflection.  
  
Still - he’s not a quitter and he’s quite stubborn when he sets his mind to it.  
  
He’s not going to lose to his companion’s chatter.  
  
“I wanna see Kuroo!!!!!!!”  
  
Akaashi twitches again, not even the smallest bone of jealousy present in his body. He acknowledges the relationship Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san has. He accepts it. He accounts for it, even.  
  
It’s nothing to be jealous of.  
  
However...  
  
“Please be quiet, Bokuto-san,” he eventually grinds out, his patience dangerously close to snappishly asking his companion to make himself scarce.   
  
It’s not like Bokuto-san has the ID card needed to go to another floor, but the thought of the other man leaving his side - possibly getting himself lost, possibly getting attacked by a wayward zombie, possibly falling into his own disease and causing havoc - is too terrifying of an option.  
  
“Akaashiiiii.”  
  
Akaashi steadfastly ignores the Bokuto-san who’s entertaining himself by spinning around in that wheeled office chair. The novelty of the leather seats and the distinctive salaryman look of the office will wear out soon. Before that happens, Akaashi just needs to finish his job here - looking over the manuals and controls of the facility in case he missed something during his initial sweep.  
  
“I’m not lonely because Akaashi’s here, but it’s still...”  
  
“I don’t feel lonely at all.” Akaashi isn’t lying. Loneliness is an emotion he hasn’t felt even when he was young. Ever since meeting Bokuto-san, there’s been no room for such a feeling. “Because Bokuto-san is here.”  
  
“You’re so sweet, Akaashi!!!” Bokuto-san jumps from the chair he’s been playing with, in order to crowd Akaashi into the table he’s inspecting. “I like it very much when you say nice things to me.”  
  
“Of course you do, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“I really do!”  
  
“I know.”   
  
Akaashi quickly changes the passwords on the main computer controlling the security system of one of Japan’s most advanced facilities. He’s already completed the set-up of his main lookut so he can detect and inspect any pending intruders to their peace, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.  
  
“I want to play video games.”  
  
“I can set it up on our room.”  
  
“Really?!”  
  
“I never lie, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“You’re so awesome, Akaashi! I’m so lucky to have a kouhai like you!”  
  
“There’s no need to shout, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“I’m not shouting, geez!”  
  
“You definitely are,” Akaashi replies, but easily captures Bokuto-san’s flailing right arm, holding him by the elbow to steer him away from the important computers. It’s almost mystifying how quickly he can control this person’s mood-swings. One could say he’s a grandmaster when it comes to handling Bokuto-san, after all.  
  
“I take it back, you’re such a meanie, Akaashi!”  
  
“You shouldn’t lie, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“You’re being mean!”  
  
Akaashi safely manages to bring his companion to the room’s threshold, so he eases the grip he has on the other’s elbow. “I’m not. But if I worried you, then I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“W-W-W-Waaaaa, you shouldn’t apologize, Akaashi! I’m sorry!”  
  
They continue talking as they make their way to their room.  
  
Well, it’s their room now.  
  
It’s not like there are astronauts left who are available to use it.  
  
Bokuto-san doesn’t stop from chattering, which is probably his own way of coping with this silent environment without the breath of another living being within the next couple of kilometers.  
  
After all, if there’s anyone - infected or otherwise - who dares to intrude in this peace that Akaashi managed to obtain for himself and Bokuto-san, he won’t hesitate to shoot them down.

 

**\- four days after: DEC 07 2021 -**  
\- Hakodate Airport, Hokkaido -  
 **<** _in the north: the turtle races against the rest_ **>**

  
  
“Whoa, it’s fucking cold here too!”  
  
Daichi and Ennoshita automatically bop Tanaka over his head, reflex causing the two ex-Karasuno captains to discipline the wayward man.   
  
“What did you expect from Hokkaido,” Tsukishima flatly drones out, even if his hands are crossed over his chest, the oversized coat looking almost cozy on him.   
  
Nobody dares to comment on that though.   
  
The only one who’d ever dare - Yamaguchi - is trailing behind to hold Yachi’s hand to ensure that she doesn’t trip on the sheet of ice covering the runway they’re trekking on.   
  
Not only that, but since the information on the refugee center they’re attempting to reach is thanks to Akiteru, there’s a measure of gratefulness towards the tall blond.  
  
That - and there’s a bulky gun on Tsukishima’s coat’s outer pocket. While the blond has only ever shot at the zombies that have pursued them, there’s no way they’ll risk the other’s ire. Especially not when Yachi and Yamaguchi are all lovey-dovey at the back part of their group, their laughter loud enough to reach Tsukishima’s ears.  
  
“But still, good job, Akiteru-niisan!” Nishinoya runs ahead of their group, yelling all about Hokkaido snow. Tsukishima twitches at the overly-familiar way of address towards his brother, but he doesn’t comment. In the background, Yachi yelps and Yamaguchi reacts along with her.  
  
“Yuu... Be careful...”  
  
“Don’t walk so slowly, Asahi!”  
  
“We’ll trip...”  
  
“Come on, you big baby! I’ll guide you!”  
  
“You’re all awfully cozy.”  
  
Daichi tenses at the unfamiliar voice that cuts through the ‘field trip’ atmosphere that their group oh-so-naturally creates. But then, he catches the not-so-unfamiliar face of the speaker so he relaxes the slightest bit.  
  
“Whoa, you don’t have to be so panicked,” Futakuchi snickers, but despite his easygoing tone and relaxed shoulders, his eyes are narrowed and his hand is tugging on Aone’s sleeve. Aone doesn’t say a word - as expected - but his hands are poised to take a shot, gun already cocked and ready.  
  
“You’re alllll so tense!” Nekoma’s Haiba Lev bounds into their mini standoff from seemingly out of nowhere. “We’re all here for the refugee camp, right? We should all be friendly!”  
  
“So says the guy waving around a knife,” Yaku mutters as he nods towards Daichi and Futakuchi to make themselves known. His palms are raised and upturned in a gesture of goodwill.  
  
Daichi and Futakuchi mirror the motion, waving for their respective group of friends to stand down.  
  
Daichi hides his unease underneath a diplomatic smile. He’s still challenged when it comes to acting diplomatically and not for the first time since their not-so-little group has started meeting up and moving towards their shot at salvation, he misses Koushi. Koushi’s the best when it comes to diffusing tense situations - and a world overrun by zombies is definitely ranked one in the most difficult situations he’s ever been into.  
  
“Whoa, Nekoma! Is Tora here too?!”  
  
“Tora-san’s coming - at least, that was his text last week.”  
  
Tanaka cringes at the news - but Lev’s spirit isn’t dampened. He definitely looks like he hasn’t even considered the possibility that something bad has happened to the other, which is why he’s not yet here. But then again, most of the cell towers in the Kanto area have been closed down due to the rapid flood of infected leaving nowhere safe. If the person they’re attempting to contact is still in an area without a signal...  
  
“Let’s save the dilly-dallying for when we’ve actually reached the safe ground.”  
  
Yaku nods at Daichi in approval. “Daichi-san’s right. Odori Park shouldn’t be too far from here.”  
  
“Wow, Yaku-san, did you hang around in Sapporo before?”  
  
“Haaa? I just know how to read a map, you big dummy.”  
  
“You’re so cool, Yaku-san!”  
  
Daichi sighs as he motions for his group to follow Lev’s long strides as they make their way towards the main building of the airport. There are no lights since electricity has been cut off apparently since the beginning of the chaos, in a bid to converse the resources towards smaller areas. It’s a smart move - almost as though the people who have established the Sapporo refugee center are supernaturally prepared for this circumstance.  
  
Tanaka and Nishinoya are running ahead, while Asahi frets after the two of them, calling out meekly about minding the slippery ground. Ennoshita matches Tsukishima’s walking pace, both of their guns out from their coat pockets as they survey the building looming ahead of them for any signs of infected life through their guns’ scopes.  
  
Further behind them, Michimiya and Narita are fulfilling their duty to lead others who are traveling with them to take turns in maneuvering the wheeled wagon-of-sorts that have their food, clothing and weaponry stock. Guarding the ‘goods’ have been relegated to the ex-Seijou members they ran into, if only because Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Kunimi have actual training in handling guns due to their respective jobs and hobbies.  
  
Daichi thinks about calling out to Yamaguchi and Yachi to tone down their... Happiness? But then he shrugs and thinks better of it. It’s probably their way of coping with this absurd world. He has no right to take that away from them.  
  
“The arrival area has some zombies in it,” Tsukishima announces in his deadpan voice, causing Daichi to blink twice before the words catches up to his brain.  
  
“Say something like that with more excitement, Glasses!” Lev yells, still waving his weapon of choice around. “Yaku-san, I bet I can take down three all by myself!”  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Yaku says with surprising amount of affection, “if you try, I’ll shoot you myself.”  
  
“Are you worried about me?!”  
  
“I’m worried that you’d attract them to our group and we’ll get ambushed.”  
  
“So you’re worried about me!”  
  
“He’s almost like a more annoying Koganegawa,” Futakuchi mutters in resignation, jogging back to where the ‘wagon’ is, so he can give them instructions of how they can hide behind some of the abandoned airport maintenance vehicles and containers, while the people ahead can clean up the supposed assembly place for those journeying towards the refugee center.  
  
Daichi stays back a little bit as he relays instructions to Tanaka, Nishinoya, Tsukishima, Ennoshita, Aone and Lev as to how they can best handle the situation.   
  
It actually doesn’t take much for their group to emerge triumphant against the five infected trapped inside the airport.   
  
Whether it’s a combination of their pilfered ammunition, surprising teamwork, or the fact that the infected seems to be frail airport clerks unable to escape from the outbreak - it only brings relief that they’re able to get through this hurdle with ease.  
  
“Looks like our welcoming committee is here,” Ennoshita comments, getting Daichi’s attention.  
  
Daichi sighs in relief as he hears Tanaka and Nishinoya whoop in delight as they dash towards their so-called welcoming committee: Ukai-sensei, Takeda-sensei, Shimada-san, Saeko-san and a distinguished-looking doctor who looks familiar in a way that Daichi cannot understand.  
  
“He looks like that manager of yours,” Lev observes tactlessly - and thankfully not loud enough for the other ex-Karasuno members to hear.  
  
“He does not,” Daichi responds automatically, instinctively knowing who Lev is referring to. “It’s only the mole.”  
  
And the doctor ends up being a popular one - Takeda-sensei explains that Doctor Toya is one of the experts on virology that’s been on news shows focusing on the RTS outbreak.  
  
“It’s simply a humanity improvement virus gone wrong, but we can discuss that in-depth once we actually reach your new home. Let’s make haste - infected humans do not discriminate between their victims and will attack anyone within reach,” Toya-sensei says with a kind smile that silences their group into starstruck admiration.  
  
Daichi allows himself to be dragged into the flow, all-too-happy to be able to relax even further. They have a huge group here of reliable people - there’s no way they’ll lose against this chaotic world.  
  
Now, if only Koushi, Hinata and Kageyama are here, everything would be perfect...

 

**\- four days after: DEC 07 2021 -**  
\- Imperial Palace, Chiyoda, Tokyo -  
 **<** _in the east: the dragon devours its own tail_ **>**

  
  
“Iwa-chan, it’s so boring here!”  
  
Oikawa bangs against the door of the room he’s locked in, with enough force to hear the rattle of wood, but not enough to free him from this fully-furnished cage.  
  
How truly kind of Iwa-chan to lock him inside the Emperor’s Chambers - any other time, Oikawa would be ecstatic at seeing himself at such a royal position (instinctive shame at defiling the Emperor’s chambers notwithstanding). But there’s hordes of infected zombies are growling about outside and he’s all locked up here like a princess on top of a tower.  
  
“Iwa-chan!”  
  
Come to think of it, when was the last time he actually saw Iwa-chan? Or he actually spoke with Iwa-chan? Or he heard Iwa-chan’s gruff, meany voice?  
  
“I miss Iwa-chan...”  
  
Oikawa sinks to his knees by the door.   
  
He has everything he can ever need within reach - except for Iwa-chan.  
  
Isn’t that sad?  
  
Isn’t that annoying?  
  
Isn’t that something he should fix?  
  
The sliding windows are boarded up so Oikawa can’t really see what’s going on outside. But then again, the overlooking view is of the garden, instead of the roads surrounding the palace, so it’s not that useful to gauge his situation.  
  
He wants to see Iwa-chan.  
  
How dare Iwa-chan leave him behind inside this room.  
  
Oikawa crawls towards the lavish, too-huge bed, rolling about in the sheets until he hits a warm computer. He blinks too many times so he can see the image clearly - not an image, but a video. Not a video, but many videos, splitting the screen into many tiles. The streets are mostly empty - for most of the traffic have been carjacked by civilians who know how to jumpstart a car, while most of the zombies have followed the escape of humanity towards more rural areas.  
  
He thinks he can see someone mean with spiky hair in the middle of the street, but then he blinks again and he sees Iwa-chan in the video feed of the palace’s kitchen, but when he blinks again he sees Iwa-chan’s face burned inside his eyelids.  
  
The thought of Iwa-chan messing about in the kitchen, cooking him such lovely home-cooked food causes his stomach to growl.  
  
Oikawa places a hand over his stomach in an effort to silence the sound. There’s no vibration underneath his skin but he still hears the growling. There’s growling from everywhere and he should be very hungry indeed.  
  
He can’t take it anymore.  
  
He’s hungry.  
  
He’s sad.  
  
He needs to see Iwa-chan soon.  
  
He untangles himself from the silk sheets, computer wires and lines of rope.  
  
He bangs against the door, but then thinks better of it, and fumbles for the doorknob.  
  
He twists the knob.  
  
He mutters about meany Iwa-chans and unlocks the door from the inside.  
  
He twists the knob again and he sees a whole new place open up in front of him.  
  
It’s not very exciting - just a dimly-lit hallway with paintings and calligraphy and sword displays. It’s more exciting compared to what he saw when he was a kid who had a field-trip to the public portion of the palace, but it’s still dull compared to the need to see Iwa-chan. And to eat.  
  
The growling doesn’t stop.  
  
The growling doesn’t stop even as he half-crawls, half-runs and meets someone familiar.  
  
“Wow, so it’s you,” Mr. Refreshing says with an overly-friendly tone, seemingly unbothered by everything that’s surrounding him.  
  
Oikawa doesn’t really care about him.  
  
The important thing is that he sees Iwa-chan.  
  
Iwa-chan’s waiting for him in the kitchens.  
  
“You even managed to break free of restraints - I should tie you up better.”  
  
“How dare you mess up my clothes, Refreshing-kun!”  
  
The silver-haired man simply smiles at him serenely as though he didn’t say anything of value. “I can’t have you escaping like this again, after all.”  
  
“Hmph! Even if you catch me, Iwa-chan will help me!”  
  
“...huh. So you can still say ‘Iwa-chan’. He’s not coming to save you though. It’s not like he’s still here?”  
  
Oikawa doesn’t really care about Mr. Refreshing, but he won’t allow anyone from bullying Iwa-chan.  
  
Before he knows it, despite his hunger, Oikawa rushes towards the smiling Sugawara Koushi, hand raised so he can punch the other into silence.   
  
His fist doesn’t reach the other’s face.   
  
He hasn’t punched anyone ever, but he knows the basics.  
  
This shouldn’t be a problem.  
  
This wouldn’t be a problem if only Iwa-chan is here.  
  
Sugawara’s smile doesn’t falter as he coos at him.  
  
“Just let me take care of you, okay?”

 

**\- four days after: DEC 07 2021 -**  
\- ??? -  
 **<** _in the center of it all: the golden sun's eclipse_ **>**

  
  
“What the hell are you doing, you dumbass?!”  
  
“I’m getting us food. And you’re the dumbass”  
  
“It smells funny! What the hell are you cooking?!”  
  
“Don’t be too choosy, Tobio.”  
  
“It’s not being choosy. It literally smells like rotten eggs.”  
  
“It’s not rotten eggs.”  
  
Hinata Shouyou hums as he ignores Tobio’s increased struggles and questions, while he makes short work of zombie he has captured, painstakingly peeling the nails off from the sawed-off foot. There’s a nabe hotpot boiling over fresh meat and some canned vegetables, but even the smell of hearty soup and spices isn’t enough to mask the scent of decay.  
  
Mental fortitude is a wonderful thing and Hinata thinks that Tobio should be an expert on something like this: namely, ignoring everything else except for one thing.  
  
But then again, it’s possible that the loss of Tobio’s eyesight is heightening his sense of hearing and smell, so he’s more panicked and overwhelmed by the sounds of the bone saw and the drip of blood making everything slippery and sticky and uncomfortable. The only reprieve is that at least it’s December and the weather is cool enough that he doesn’t sweat through his meal preparations.  
  
“I’m almost done, Tobio! I think this is my best meal yet. Natsu would be so proud.”  
  
“Just hurry up and feed me, damn it.”  
  
“You’re so uncute!”  
  
It’s not true though.  
  
Tobio’s cute like this - eyes wrapped in black blindfold that’s a stark contrast against his pale skin, body recovering from the zombie attack so he’s more or less dependent on Hinata.  
  
Now, if only he’ll praise Hinata for his cooking, everything will be perfect...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what happened in those four days? LOL 
> 
> Hmm, the four cardinal directions are represented by:
> 
> (North) (Genbu - turtle/winter/water)  
> (East) (Seiryu - dragon/spring/wood)  
> (West) (Byakko - tiger/autumn/metal)  
> (South) (Suzaku - phoenix/summer/fire)
> 
> Also: ouroboros is a snake that devours its own tail.
> 
> There’s not a lot of zombies orz but there’s a lot of hints and ~fushigi mystery~ and folks being fishy. And of course, Oikawa. He deserves such a special mention, not only because he’s my favorite, but because the suffering is just beginning! *gets shot*
> 
> Lastly: Hinata.


End file.
